


When Seasons Change

by artsoupsoupart



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017), The Worst Witch - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:35:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26520751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artsoupsoupart/pseuds/artsoupsoupart
Summary: Pippa needs a litle more help and care.Aka, I have seasonal depression, so Pippa does too. Hecate comforts her a bit.
Relationships: Hardbroom/Pentangle (Worst Witch), Hecate Hardbroom/Pippa Pentangle
Comments: 10
Kudos: 48





	When Seasons Change

The day is beautiful if a bit chilly. The clouds in the far off distance are large, some grey, others playing peek-a-boo with the sun. It will definitely rain later, showering and cleansing the soil and even the earth’s smallest creatures. The wind blows through the trees, rattling a few leaves just so that they fall from the highest branches and glide to the ground. Every day the sun sets a little earlier, casting a golden glow that is uniquely autumnal. Hecate’s grateful she chose to indulge in lightening her workload this schoolyear so she could leave earlier on Fridays. It had taken well over a year after her confinement was lifted to go further than just off the edge of Cackle’s to a little witching town. Then Pippa had visited, and they had talked (Pippa had been rightfully upset but the disappointment she held from Hecate’s lack of trust in their friendship – even as a naïve and confused teenager – cut to the brunette’s very core) and eventually they came to an understanding. They’re friends again and perhaps on some level never stopped being so.

Her feet land on the manicured grass of the modern witching academy and all it takes a flick of the wrist to banish her broom and cloak away. Strange. Normally, Pippa would be at the entrance to greet her or would have sent a message if she were otherwise occupied because Hecate’s not yet comfortable just showing up to Pentangle’s. Definitely not unannounced and she wouldn’t dare immediately transfer into Pippa’s rooms (though the blonde has stated on many occasion that she can). The blonde isn’t there, though, and it immediately sets Hecate on edge. Pentangle’s is always quieter on Fridays due to Pippa’s insistence on having four-day school weeks with optional classes and mandatory tutoring sessions instead, so the hallways are near silent as she transfers outside Pippa’s room.

Lithe fingers curl into a fist and Hecate knocks three times against the tall solid wood. There’s a shuffle, perhaps a hiss and curse before the doorknob rattles and the door opens.

“Hecate?” Pippa says with mouth agape in surprise.

“I thought,” Hecate starts to say as she takes in the woman in front of her. “We were going to have an early dinner. But if you’re busy-”

One of Pippa’s hands flies up to frizzy, blonde locks, nervously pushing them away from her eyes. Though they’ve been estranged for so long, she knows this look. To the untrained eye, to someone who didn’t know Pippa (does Hecate still **know** Pippa?), they would just think the woman was tired. And she is. The dark circles under her eyes are minimal but definitely present. She’s exhausted though she’s had a full nights’ rest many nights in a row. Her hair is not as perfectly set, her dress, casual and comfortable, from the day is wrinkled ever so gently though she’d normally just spell them away. Her eyes, red and puffy as if she’s been crying, show exhaustion on more than a physical level.

Hecate lets her eyes slide past Pippa and inside the room which is in its own state of disarray. Books and magazine and empty vials litter the space. There’s more than one unfolded blanket all varying in thickness. The lights are lower than usual and give off a soft but dark yellow tinge to the room. Even the curtains have been drawn, only leaving a peak of waning sunlight to pass through. Yes, Hecate deduces, something is very off with Pippa. Something that she hasn’t had to experience since they were teenagers.

It all takes her back to a time many, many moons ago when the roles had suddenly been reversed in their friendship and she had had to be confident enough to be Pippa’s comfort.

…

The first time she’d seen Pippa in this state they were sixteen. Early one wintery Thursday morning, Hecate dresses in her uniform, hair perfectly pulled into a bun no different from the one she still sports, and quickly stalks down the corridors until she reaches her best friend’s room as she’s done many times over the years. Hecate grabs one of her school jackets to stave off the cold that has infiltrated Cackle’s. It’s dark to be so early, cloudy too. Ice clings to the windows and Hecate doesn’t even have to check the weather to know there’ll be snow soon. Something in the air has Hecate stiff, fingers rubbing against their tips. Even her knock seems off as she taps just below the pink nameplate. She hears no music, no chime of chanting records, or even a blow drying spell. There’s no scent of roses and vanilla wafting down the hall, at least not the way Pippa normally wears it (other fifth years are always copying Pippa). Strange.

Hecate stands a bit straighter and call out, “Pippa? Pippa, are you in there?”

The hallway and the room seem eerily quiet before Pippa says through the door – but nowhere close to it, “Hiccup, I’m alright. I just don’t feel well. Don’t want to get you or anyone else sick and all that.”

“Are you sure?” Hecate asks.

The second of pause makes Hecate nervous. “Positive.”

“If you’re sure… Feel better,” she calls. Then waits. And waits. And waits a little longer hoping that maybe she’ll hear something or that Pippa will say something, anything to quell this worry that has suddenly overtaken her. When she gets no response, Hecate sighs softly and turns away to head to class. The teachers already being notified of Pippa’s absence does nothing to relieve the brunette’s worries. but she tries as much as possible to take as good of notes as possible for when she returns.

Friday after dinner, she knocks once more just to check in and gets the same response before sliding copies of her days’ notes under the door. She’s walked past Pippa’s door more than a couple times, each time shooting a nervous glance towards it. Saturday, though, Hecate just can’t shake the feeling that Pippa is more than just sick. In the three years she’s known her, she’s never known Pippa to lock herself in her room for days and days, barely speaking to anyone. And she’s definitely been sick before and had no problems still coming to class, though logically this could be a far worse illness than other times.

She has to let Pippa know she’s around if she needs her, but Hecate isn’t good with words. She never has been, and everyone knows it. Instead, she does what she does best: magic. Though her art magic has never been exceedingly great, she makes a card out of spare cardstock and colored pencils. She tries to incorporate all the things Pippa finds joy in: sweets, the shining light of the moon on the meadows, purple (a surprise to most since the blonde wears so much pink). Then she attempts to refine her Night Sky spell. It’s too cold to sneak to the top of the west tower, though that’s hardly stopped them before. But Hecate isn’t sure Pippa would even be willing to go, or if she’ll want to see Hecate at all.

Hecate slides the card under Pippa’s door at lunchtime. The blonde still hasn’t shown up all day. With sweaty palms, the young brunette asks two of Pippa’s other friends – Isabella and Deidre – if they’ve gotten through to her. They haven’t and are just as perplexed as Hecate is. The brunette tries not to worry too much, tries not to think of the worst possible scenarios though it’s very easy to slip up.

After Hecate has finished up any homework and studying she has (it’s not much, she’s perpetually ahead in all her classes), she makes her way from the Poppy hall to the Petunia corridor to Pippa’s room just before lights out. This time when she knocks, Pippa’s voice rings through asking who’s there. Then she’s face to face with her best friend who couldn’t look the furthest thing from happy. Pippa’s energy is completely opposite to what Hecate is used to, not that she’d point that out. It’d only make the blonde feel worse.

“Hi,” she says, attempting to be less of her cynical self and instead bright and cheery like Pippa. “Did you get my card?”

The blonde nods her head and silently moves to the side, an invitation for Hecate to enter the room for the first time in days. “It was beautiful. Thank you.”

Hecate notices how scratchy, raw, and a bit raspy Pippa’s voice is. She tries to play cool and collected, like this is normal. Because it is. Feeling things is normal, Pippa had told her that and she had believed it. Hecate takes her usual spot on Pippa’s desk chair, still enjoying the plush pink pillow that is always on the seat and then motions for Pippa to take her usual spot on the bed. Thankfully, Pippa actually settles on the bed, curled a bit in on herself instead of spreading out and comfortable. Even Artemis, Pippa’s owl familiar, seems to stay closer to his witch than he normally does, choosing to perch on the metal headboard instead of high on the ceiling’s support beams. Hecate still tries to continue on as if this isn’t strange, as if she knows exactly what she’s doing.

They talk about classes. It’s the most comfortable thing Hecate is used to talking about. She catches the blonde up on their classes, chanting and potions, cat training and spell science. She keeps talking as she goes into detail about Morgana’s haughty attitude during said cat training. It elicits a small chuckle from Pippa that has Hecate relaxing a bit and wishing she had brought the familiar with her. Hecate offers to help with any work Pippa doesn’t get and for the next couple of hours they just focus on schoolwork, concrete work, tangible work, work that can be easily controlled and manipulated to their every want and need.

Hecate can see Pippa is less stressed by the time they’re done with their work. She’s no longer trying to avoid eye contact and she all out laughs as Hecate updates her on the little bit of news that happened in and between classes. The brunette has just packed away her books as they reach a comfortable silence.

“Oh, I just remembered,” Hecate exclaims. She reaches in her satchel for the vial of dark purple liquid already resembling the galaxy. Pippa’s now on the edge of her bed, perched to try to catch a glimpse. With a chant and a wave of her hand, outer space takes the place of intricate wooden and metal beams on the ceiling. With eyes like the wide and mysterious planets, Pippa looks up to see the projection of the night sky and all its twinkling stars. She reaches a hand up and gasps at the warmth of speeding asteroids. Hecate joins Pippa on the bed, can’t help but watch her, watch the wonder and the amazement take over Pippa’s features at the supernovas and constellations. She thinks she could enjoy this view for hours.

“Thank you, Hiccup,” the blonde softly chokes through a whisper. She doesn’t look at Hecate. Pippa just continues looking up at her ceiling. Her eyes close, contemplation clear as day as she tries to figure out the right words. Hecate doesn’t need to hear any of it, but she figures if Pippa wants to let it all out, she’ll lend a listening ear. “It feels like I’m faking it. Sometimes what I feel isn’t what people see and I don’t know…” she trails off.

“You don’t know why.” Hecate says it so simply that Pippa looks up at her as if someone understands her for the first time, but the brunette doesn’t catch her gaze immediately, so she goes back to looking forward. “Why you feel this way when you have no reason to, why you aren’t the sunshine in everyone’s good day. Why you’re still excelling and responsible and yet you feel so…”

“Lost,” they say together. They sigh and fall back onto the bed. Then it’s quiet. Hecate follows the lines in the constellations above.

“Pipsqueak,” she murmurs the nickname to get the blonde’s attention. When she has it, she continues, “You don’t have to be the sunshine in everyone’s good day. A wise, teenage witch once told me that I’m allowed to feel sad or angry because of what’s going on in my life.” Brown eyes turn to meet brown, a crooked but almost not there grin on Hecate’s lips. “Well, I’m telling that wise, teenage witch that she’s allowed to feel sad or angry for no reason.”

Pippa’s breath stutters as she inhales. Young and once hopeful eyes fill with thick tears and snot collects in the depths her nose that Pippa attempts to sniffle away. Then she’s crying, fully crying. Her shoulders bouncing lightly as she still tries to not let it show. It’s not the first time Hecate has had to comfort Pippa. The young witch had cried when Artemis was threatened to be taken away after an event during Pippa’s first year at Cackle’s. She had cried when she didn’t make it to the finals of the chanting competition two years prior. This though, feels different. It’s not born in disappointment or loss. It’s a fraction of release that Pippa has needed for a while, possibly for her entire life.

Hecate hates it, hates to see Pippa be so hurt by her own thoughts and fears, her own insecurities, her own reaction to the sun shining less often in the sky. Still she knows it’s a necessary evil to get back to something the blonde is comfortable with. Hecate shifts their positions by wrapping an arm around her, letting Pippa cry against her shoulder until the girl is spent and tired. Hecate only leaves Pippa to get her things to go shower, but she stays in Pippa’s room that night and they look at the twinkling of the magical stars until two sets of eyes droop heavily, letting out deep yawns as they drift off to sleep.

As the days pass and winter begins to quickly approach, Hecate wonders why she had never seen the signs before. From the dullness of the glint in brown eyes to the way she doesn’t raise her hand as often in class. When the seasons change, Pippa does as well. It’s subtle and maybe a bit dangerous. Hecate had never noticed before, but she vowed to pay closer attention now, vowed to be there just as much as Pippa is there for her, for however long she could.

**…**

“No, I’m not busy. I’m simply tired, Hecate.”

Pippa’s voice stirs her from her brief memory and Hecate nods. “Which is why you should go and lie down for a little,” she says, physically turning Pippa from her and towards the bedroom, Artemis hovering behind them. If she didn’t know better, she’d think the owl was relieved to see her. She receives a bit of resistance but practically scolds the blonde into following her silent directions with a single look.

The bedroom is no better, cluttered mainly with dresses, skirts, and shoes. The vanity holds an array of beauty products – brushes and lipsticks and blushes – that are normally neatly tucked away immediately after use. She has to step over more than one necklace and ring and bracelet that litters the floor. The bed isn’t made, and Hecate figures Pippa had been laying in it when she’d arrived. There’s more than one teacup with tea that has long gone cold and stale cookies that barely have nibbled teeth marks. Still, it’s not the immaculate room Pippa is known to keep. She gets the blonde into bed, anyway, and takes note of how she immediately curls against her pillows.

Hecate drops her voice to little over a whisper and tries to sound as nonjudgmental as possible. “When was the last time you ate?”

Brows scrunch together and Pippa bites her lip. She can’t recall the last meal she had. Hecate just nods and pulls the covers up a little further around her. “Right, well, let’s see if I can get that sorted. Rest,” she says. It’s stern but there’s worry behind it.

Hecate leaves the room when Pippa is comfortably in bed, switching off the lights with a flick of her finger. When the door closes behind her, she lets out a sigh of her own. The space isn’t too bad, she reminds herself. Less dirty and more cluttered. So, she begins. Her hands raise and books begin to fly back to their places on the shelves. Papers are neatly stacked, pens placed back in their holders. The blanket haphazardly on the couch she folds by hand. With a point of her finger, the broom begins to sweep. She takes her time cooking something light for Pippa, something she can nibble on if she feels like it.

“Hecate, you shouldn’t have. I would’ve gotten around to it.” The soft voice startles the brunette, and she turns to look at her friend. Dark, hazel eyes are rimmed red and watery but even in her despair, Pippa’s eyes sparkle.

Familiarly to when they were teens, they don’t talk as they eat. Hecate pretends to not notice the sliding of food from one side of the plate to the other. Or the way Pippa’s leg bounces then stops, bounces then stops. Or the way that she has one hand on her arm, closed off as if to shield herself. Instead, Hecate just lets her exist because eventually she’ll eat, even if it’s only half. And she’ll drink the tall glass of water and sigh. Pippa does just that, shoulders dropping as if a bit of weight has been lifted from them and when she’s finished, she grins to herself and Hecate knows she’s feeling a bit better. Pippa stands from the table as Hecate flicks a wrist to clean the dishes and put them away.

“Pipsqueak,” Hecate stops her movement. The blonde turns around, brows raised in questioning. She looks more relaxed now, perhaps a small fraction of the bright person she is. For a second Hecate doesn’t know what to say. She clears her throat as she steps forward with an understanding smile. She receives one back and in that moment she simply wants to comfort her best friend. Her arms stretch forward, and she wraps Pippa in a hug, something she doesn’t give out to anyone too often.

In a change of pace, Pippa is the one who stiffens at the contact, squeezes her eyes shut at the onslaught of emotions. Her legs grow weak and Hecate helps her sit on her couch. With a flick of her wrist, the room fills with soft tinkling chimes. Tears don’t fall but they definitely rock through her. Pippa shudders, curls, and settles more into the couch. It takes some finesse, but Hecate can eventually shuffles from under Pippa’s sleeping head which had been held up by a sharp shoulder.

As Pippa dozes on the couch, Hecate moves to the bedroom to do some cleanup. She changes out the sheets, pillowcases, and comforter. She mumbles a spell to differentiate which clothes are clean and which aren’t. She clears off the vanity, accidentally spilling some of Pippa’s sweet smelling perfume on herself. If she wasn’t so preoccupied with cleaning and distracted by her own worried thoughts about Pippa, she would’ve magicked the scent away. The familiar rose and vanilla mixture soothes Hecate, though, so she doesn’t.

Hecate is lost in thought when the door to the bedroom slides open. The gentle creak causes her to jump and twist around to see Pippa, who silently makes her way inside the room. The brunette has a set of pajamas for her at the ready, though she lets Pippa choose her own underwear. They may be best friends, they may eventually develop into something more, but Hecate could never bring herself to choose those particular articles of clothing. No matter how close they seem to be. Their fingers brush as Pippa takes the clothing, a spark of something more than friendship that Hecate will ignore for now. Pippa is at her most vulnerable, Hecate reminds her various wayward thoughts and feelings as she preoccupies herself with a book from one of Pippa’s shelves and waits in the living room.

The blonde takes her time in the bathroom. That familiar rosy scent begins to seep through the cracks of the doors and filter to the living room. It’s a peace, Hecate’s peace, that washes over the room in a blanket. Sooner than she expects, Pippa is leaning at the door in fresh, warm sleep clothes. Hecate looks up and smiles. She looks better, Hecate thinks. Hopefully, she feels better.

“What do you need to make you happy right now?” Hecate asks as firmly as she can to convey that she’s here for Pippa, for her friend, her best friend. Pippa stares at the ceiling and shrugs her shoulders. Anything, Hecate silently confirms, she’ll do anything to make Pippa happy at this very minute.

“Do you think…” Pippa starts but stops.

“Yes?”

It’s the shiest she thinks she’s ever seen her. Her cheeks have tinged pink. “Do you think you can say your Night Sky spell?”

The request is so simple it almost shocks Hecate. She probably doesn’t need the potion, though it would enhance it so they could really feel like they’re floating. The blonde tips her head so Hecate will follow her. As best she can, Hecate chants the spell to life, the room descending into both darkness and light. Pippa’s face lights up just like it did all those years ago as she settles under her covers. The blonde reaches out her hand which Hecate happily takes. She joins her and they stare up at the faux sky. Pippa sighs, content and relaxed. She’s not at one-hundred percent and probably won’t be for a couple more days, or the rest of the winter season, but as long as she feels better right in this moment, Hecate will count that as a win for the night.

**Author's Note:**

> Put my feelings about fall and winter into a one-shot. May have a second chapter. we'll see bc my friend said people might want more because they don't like unhappy Pippa. Let me know. As always, you can talk to me on twitter @artsoupsoupart or tumblr @lanassuportgroup


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